


The Poet and The Flirt

by Night_Panther_13



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Panther_13/pseuds/Night_Panther_13
Summary: This is my first work on AO3 and not very good :3 Coffee shop fluffy romance and generally sweet short story.





	The Poet and The Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> My characters in this one are based off of Les Miserables characters but everything is original. Hope you enjoy this. :3

It was two in the afternoon. For once the streets were quiet in the French town. Jacques was wiping down his cafe’s tables when he saw an angel. Well not necessarily an angel. He always imagined a angel as less pretty. This human was better. That was what he had thought his first thousand crushes. Fat, thin, old, young, popular, or not so he liked them all. He had begun taking pride in it. In high school he had thought being called “that bi guy” was an insult. But if he honeyed his voice it became “ohh look it’s that bi guy” followed by daydreaming sighs. Surprisingly girls loved him. He was on the football team, but also became a theater major. Well technically He still was in college. A senior. But after buying the cute coffee shop down the street Jacques knew his career. The smell of pastries and coffee beans was intoxicating to him. Even the lemon tea made him happy. So every day he opened the shop and watched the customers float in. He enjoyed watching the sleepy uni kids or the grumpy old couple in the morning. Even a Georges with a hangover would stumble in. He loved his friends and they loved cakes. His sense in fashion varied. Often bow ties, sometimes flannel, mostly tee shirts, and once guyliner. But whatever he wore he wore with confidence and he wore it well.  
But none of this mattered to Jacques now. All his suaveness and confidence wilted up like a dead flower. The most perfect person in the world stepped through the door. Eyes of aqua and and converse shoes that matched. Mousy light brown hair was flecked with strawberry blonde and done up in a braid. This angel on earth sported floral leggings and an oversized pastel pink sweater. In his arms he carried a stack of journals and books and balanced on top was a old fashioned feather quill. Jacques could barely contain his grin as this beau walked up to the counter. He appeared thoughtful as he browsed the dessert case.  
“What can I do fo-” is all Pierre had said. Jacques half slide tackled Pierre before he could ask what this beautiful person wanted.  
“May I take your order?” Jacques grinned not feeling the bruise swelling on his shoulder.  
“I will have the mint truffles and lilac tea,” The boy softly said in a dreamy voice. He seemed to not notice Pierre’s fall to the floor or care that the muscled man looked like he was about to strangle his boss Jacques. Jacques could only think about the soft voice and features of his new crush. He had begun to stare at the perfect pink lips on the customer and also didn’t see the angered Pierre.  
“Coming right up!” Jacques exclaimed happily.  
“Trade the truffles for lemon cake,” The patron decided.  
“Your wish is my command,” Jacques breathed. He had the food and drink served in record time.  
“Thank you Jacques,” The client said reading his name tag. He then proceeded to take his food and sit in the far corner by the window. As he passed the door Jacques almost feared he would leave. No other people were there besides Pierre, Jacques, and this strange boy.  
“He knows my name!” Jacques whispered to Pierre as they washed dishes in the back room.  
“You wear your name on your shirt,” Pierre grumbled still upset about being literally pushed over. The customer that occupied Jacques mind sat in the corner and was scribbling in the journals in no apparent order. He would stop suddenly and stare out the window, take a sip of tea gasp quietly and then scribble more. The more Jacques watched the more confident he grew. He was about to ask the boy what his name was but this beau had gathered his things and walked out the door. Jacques glare at the chimes on the door as if it were their fault. At least his unrequited love had left a tip.  
This continued on for a month. Every Monday and Wednesday this patron would arrive at two o’clock sharp. He would order truffles or chocolates and then change it to a cake. Jacques would think about talking to him but by then it was two forty five and the boy would leave. Occasionally a napkin with poetry was scribbled on it and Jacques would snatch it up and add it to a binder of them he collected. They were broken stanzas of different things of different focuses. And Jacques was hopelessly in love.  
“Just talk to him!” Charles snapped one afternoon. “If I have to listen to another rant about his hair and the flower intertwined in it I will explode!”  
“We could talk about his collection of sweaters,” Jacques mumbled.  
“That’s it!” Charles growled. “I’m clocking out. I am going to the break room and if you don’t talk to him I will never return your phone.”  
“Okay,” Jacques said mentally building confidence. He glanced at the clock, two forty four. He walked into the empty room and glanced up at the pretty boy.  
“Hello Jacques,” The boy smiled. “Are you closing? Cause I was just about to leave. I heard um Charles I think say something about clocking out.”  
“Uh no I’m not,” Jacques stuttered. “Hey I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s your name?”  
“Jean,” Jean giggled.  
“Jean,” Jacques whispered. He began again louder,” Well Jean I was wondering if we could go to like, I don’t know some place. Like out to coffee?”  
“This is a coffee shop,” Jean stated confused.  
“OH yeah my coffee shop,” Jacques laughed. He looked around as if just realising where he was. “Well maybe a bar?”  
“I don’t really drink,” Jean said even more puzzled. “But I could got for fries any day.”  
“Fries then right,” Jacques said blushing. “Well like would you like to go-”  
“On a date?” Jean said now blushing. “With you?”  
“Yeah,” Jacques grinned ear to ear. “But only if you don’t mind.”  
“Yes,” Jean smiled. His poet’s heart filled with countless emotions and he didn’t know what was happening until. He was kissing him. The confident cute barista.  
“I’m so sorry!” Jean squeaked. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m surrounded by all these love poems and so I just fell into the moment.”  
“Shut up,” Jacques said in a loving voice. Jean was pulled into another kiss. He was shocked and pleased and felt silly.  
“See you Friday at eight?” Jean said after the kiss was broken.  
“Friday. Eight. Meet me here,” Jacques sighed. His ray of sunshine headed out the door giggling and cheeks blushing. His beautiful Jean had wrote dozens of love poems, rhymed hundreds of words with love, loved, and lover, yet he felt for the first time true love. Jacques dated hundreds, crushed on thousands, and kissed many, but felt loved for the first time as well when he was with his Jean. They were two halves to a whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave requests and likes in the comments if you liked this one. Thanks for reading my horrible writing lol.


End file.
